Unsettled Love

He settled his expectant gaze outside the old wooden window,

special rays from the fireball called the sun,

made right angles through the window,

fell straight on his palm spread out on its own.

His tears slid, on the cheeks faking up a smile,

they rolled down on puffed up wrinkles,

eyes expelled any stains of a happy smile,

emotions swelled up only warlike kindle.

The desperate urge to own all moments with her,

exploded a balky silence, pecking on his time,

 eyes stuck to the window, longing for her,

was it ever possible again, life behaved like a mime.

And she was walking towards him, off his dream,

he cleared the blur off his twinkling eye,

she vanished in thin air as quickly as his dream,

was it her by the window? or in his mind. But why?

His claims on his unsettled love paced in his heart, 

one look at the palm.. would she come ever in his life?

The lines on his palm scoffed at his heart

        for, she lived in his heart, not in his life

Conversation With My Nostalgic Deepawali

Like it all just began much before the dawn

while a layer of dark awaited hastily for the

curtains of day light to be raised, for a special day

like how my family assembled outdoors

for a herb flavoured oil massage, while

the charcoal and copper aromatic water felt rejuvenating

like little rabbits, we children and adults had the holy bath

lit several oil diyas, folded hands before the supreme

and settled in for the preparation, festival of lights

like, of days when the satellite reach was limited

social plug ins being "meeting and greeting" each other

festivity vibes connected entire town, by hugs, smiles and warmth

like the times we kids settled by the doorsteps

boxes filled with colourful crackers and poppers

very air of the town felt the vibes, the sounds of the crackers

like there was no stopping, by the dusk

the colourful sparklers would grace the sky

children's laughter were heard far away across many houses

like the best festivity spirits flickered, everyone showed up

with colourful outfits, authentic food and infectious love

the festive vibes united us, sculptured us into a pure human

like those days of the Deepawali, our childhood saw

are there any today? hard to match the past

for now, the vibes are passed on "online" alas!

like it all happened then, it may not happen now

yet we cleanse our energies, our nestles

we still dress up,  pray, eat and meet people

like it all happened then, it may not happen now

the crackers box shrunken, skies darker

love sprawls on the social plug ins only online

yet , it is the festival. It is all here.

We still follow all the practices, we pray

only  the times have switched faces.

Happy Deepawali everyone.

The Hollow

Two little eyes sparkled and

stared from the hollow

eyelids blinked in resonance

with the winter evening breeze



crawling out from the hollow

wee, came the little figure, down the slide

both tiny hands clutched on to her long black gown

sliding slow as snail, expectant eyes



wee, and down, stomping on the sand

swooshing few in air , two little foot walked

rubbing a pinch of dust off the eyes

the figure stopped moving



and out reached two big hands stroking her head

fed her expensive cookies and colourful juices

but little anxious eyes wandered

seeking something not mysterious



little eyelids blinked more now

in resonance with a flickering smile

as another little figure that lingered around

with bright florescent yellow jersey dress



"can we play together"..gleefully

made another little figure

hollow in the eyes of little figure filled up

as her lips carved out the best smile.



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P.S. - I take my son outdoors playing. This poetry was written quickly during one such visit. Playing in groups is a rare scene these days. Our children are enjoying the urban play pens with parents right on their back.

Many times I notice few kids being reined in, with set of instructions.

Let them free. Let them play  with other children. in full glee and spree.

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Converses With My Moments

Puffing away the day's chores

that I count down with all my will

sometimes against, but with affection



running length and breadth with the tick-tocks

marking down unending to-do lists

cheering everyone I love, and then me



smiling at gale of chatters that matters

calls , talks, blue ticks, for every soul touched

with every cup of coffee, every plate meal



just dawn to dusk is not my call

pretty odd  reverse way too, work to work

charging away tough jiffs



every job accomplished, fulfilled promises

every concluding day, fuels my brain and brawn

stimulates every nerve and my bone



living thousand moments, cuddled up in me

looking away from chores into open pages of life

as I write and write and write, love you, I tell my moments.....

Tribute

I lost someone very close to heart and she left this world with regrets. Regrets that only time could fulfill. How could we learn from it? I have no clue. That is what we know as fate.

The eternal fact that death embraces us all the same way never ceases to surprise us why how and when can it approach us though. We all lose someone or the other close to our heart to the heavens. Apparently, only when we lose does it strike too hard on us. We often forget to be aware of health or we are too fussy about it. But who can outdo destiny?  Fate is that wretched word that can shatter our lives, that can be your lessons too.

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Earth was as much yours as mine

we embraced this life with warmth

till your ascend across the rainbows

from the green and browns to the blues

 our connecting chords seem to fade

I can no longer see or, hear you

hence my eyes closed

in search of your transcend into my thoughts

we talked and laughed,

like re-living the past

now I could see my fragile future

your regrets turned into pages of my lessons

I blinked open my eyes, and you are gone.

realization grabbed that blink

where are you, along the vague chords?

reaching up the high blue spread

the earth is as yours as mine

I reside here now, alone

while your turn ended

just here and you are gone.....

Defying Silence

While the dawn is sprawling up in the sky

sun ambitiously, delicately climbing up, to

decorate the horizon in multiple hues of red

while random small waves  authoritatively

guided the early birds to their prey,

tiny ripples hurriedly lapped at the shore

while winter wind found the boulders

for shelter, few sands and greens to fancy

most swimming ducks seemed peaceful

while the only cruises that moved far on

ferried the fishermen and their cast

few happy sea-gulls dived for food

while coyish sun cheated on much

foggy, frosty winter is a keeper

days were shrinking for dark long nights

while seated on the cold beach chair

in company of my thoughts

I listened to noisy silence of life 

apparent chaos in the routines

I seek silence from heart within

then wait, wait to reach a moment

while revering that moment

of silence and solitude

I attend to the noise inside me

while staring deep into a void

placing myself in the bosom of the cosmos

refilling mind with abundant of nature's love

while unwinding  for life-like

mammoth puzzling treasure

I embrace a tantalizing, Defying Silence

Converses With Pain

You know it, you unsought 

unasked unwelcome emotion, 

you are most disgusting aren't you?

troubling a peace mongering living soul

is what you are known for after all?

you are a treacherous beast

I mused until a moment now

only when I decided to fight you

with my will, love faith all in queue

I resolve, you rather stay close to me

along as long  you define thee

how you articulate my emotions

grow along, my will and you abreast

as I ascend thousand  green brambles

watched, laughed, by unreachable pink roses

hearing faint deep voices so familiar 

may be echoing from a distance

ironically prescribing faith, peace

you do complete my lost part to full

awakening my lost hopes  a cure

apparently, you do care for sure

 I appeal, you are fine,  nested close to me

foster my inner voice to a threshold 

so unaware of my own dreams, 

prick me yet pat my back, 

entrusting me in my whole soul, my realms

- Sush

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Converses With My Little Voices

PC - Anu. 

....how it began, when some silent whispers screamed,

 from my heart's secrets, unguarded by the  brain

which apparently showed up soon enough

when I fell in  the ecstatic company of the clouds



how many thousands of moments I have lived

each day, by the side of loved ones

how many errands accomplished

holding hands of those that matter



yet, why, scratches like instances of emptiness?

the fear, if I had lived those moments at all?

experiences of every fraction of second of past

that still rejuvenate my nervous make up



my interactions with sea of people, that left

the  bits of profound lessons, interesting marks

lovely images of life, in the album of my memory..

leaving me immersed in those moments again through these words



cuddled in among all these, was a poignant moment

like a bubble reflecting the rainbow colours

flying in the direction away from 'my' wind

adorable golden pearls of times, that I had lived only once



bubble formed by eternity of love

bonding of strength, love, life and laughter

I got to live it once and let go

leaving me elated in life



how, my experience, hard and lazy work, compromises,

all sculptured and craved out a prominent shape to my life

with beautiful, good or bad times of past, but,

I was yet to lead myself to the next



The future, the dreams that I am expected to live too,

got me a sweeter appointment with my deeper within

for a tete-a-tete , confabbing about gray zone of my heart

Conversing with my little voices, what they want to be....

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A Summer Sum Up Of Times Past

How much ever we crib about the scorching heat of the sultry summer days, the hot crisp air some times strikes a beaming smile on your face as you remember those school time summer holidays. There was so much life that brought me close to nature. I did not grow up with android, WiFi, or IOS but had trees. Today it is the other way round. 


And the summers of  times past, school days,

were absolute blissful vacation of gala ways.

Pranks on the prowl, jumping rope, swinging high, unending fun,

skinning knees, skipping fast, reading books, with WiFi none!


Those haunting escapades onto the streets,

tree climbing event with buddies were treats.

Shouting our lungs out, whip our hair and dance,

playing pranks on passers-by, leaving no chance.



Flower hours,  were my choicest few,

rejoicing the summer bloom galore each day new.

Neatly aligned rows of May Flower trees, shining with the sun,

were our air conditioners for the day in the open.



The placid  and alluring Champa I chose for my hair,

while Jasmine stayed on with its aroma diffused in the air.

Parijatak, untruly the tree of sorrows, was a favourite of mine,

bushy shrub by the gate, fragrant and so divine.



And then there were times, creeping down to kitchen store and peep,

in dark corners, steal granny's pickle bottles from shelves high and deep.

Pinching some of her jarred green mangoes, meant a ritual of the feast,

the huge green pickle jars were targets of life! simple at least.


And again, flicking granny's  "Vicco Turmeric", to look like a queen

tiptoe to her high window shelf, stealthily waiting to preen.

Reaching out to the yellow tube, randomly smack the skin with a layer,

and smile onto that silver framed small wall mirror.



Wearing those  sleeveless floral frocks, laundered neat and clean,

Amma paddled away on her brown "Singer" sewing machine.
The special material that it was made  from, the "Only Vimal "  

fresh and soft for summers, that was our brand to feel royal!


Quenching down the thirst with  Rasna drink,


that Amma readied and filled the fridge with, in colours yellow-green and pink.

Gulping down liters of it, and hold serious debates,

on colour of your tongue with friends, was madly cute.



Summing up those times, going down memory lane,

of spirit in heart, spring on our feet, and barefooted run!

Summers though were times, boundless, to chill

Hot rays of sun and waves of the sea, polishing moments to heart's fill.

The Gift I Chose For My Mom

Painting done by my daughter

Amma,



She has in her, the entire me,

so what can I gift her in my life?

but by being a mother myself.



Attempt a reflection of her essence,

look upon her a role model,

epitome of motherhood.

She has that doll I slept with as a baby,

and  those pieces of papers,

of master piece graffiti done with my little hands.



Her store still keeps my old rusted cycle,

that I once rode and shopped for her,

odd supplies from neighbourhood stores.



She has the school uniform that,

I wore to my first day of school,

on that rainy morning of 1980's.



Even now, her memory retains,

my childhood friends and our pranks,

my chatters and tall tales and mimics.



Those medals and trophies,

I won shine in her shelf ,

that's her pride and  she dusts them daily.



Her collection of antique is,

 priceless bunch of stuff,

kajol stick, comb and paraphernalia from my teens.



Why is it so? that, we chose one special day,

to  thank our mother!

I fail to understand.



Dedicate few hours of a year, call it her day,

plant a kiss, gift a rose and a lovely card,

Is that enough? I fail to understand.



I have a life with me,

not enough to make that card,

bigger than lessons she gave me.



I have a life with me,

but is it enough to relieve with one hug,

her long journey of hardships?

I have a life with me,

not enough to fetch that flower for her,

to outshine the fragrance of her love on me.



She's taken the pain, for me to live this day,

so what can I gift her in my life?

but by being a mother myself.

Converses With My Mirror

           

This post is on  Blog Adda for it's Spicy Saturday picks.

http://blog.blogadda.com/2017/04/29/best-blog-posts-from-the-indian-blog-world

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My tiny world of poetry is just a few words minced with my thoughts. 

We all must have talked to our selves, to the mirror, sharing the heap of thoughts that we stir in our minds. We must have taken that time to release the thoughts in front of the picture that formed when we faced the mirror. Apparently we realize the mirror is the path, from our eyes to our soul through the mind and the heart.

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Fighting the battle of,

I know you, or,

hey do  I know you?

eyes started at the mirror,

and shut themselves slowly, in pain.

Fighting the battle of,

am I you, or you resemble me?

the mind  grappled,

with a mountain of emotions,

facing the mirror, in vain.

Fighting the battle of,

you are pretty, or

 is your mind prettier?

vision blurred in the mirror,

with thoughts fading in strain.

Fighting the battle of,

are you living in your past?,

or, are you set for future,?

the strangled will power,

peeked through mirror after a detain.

Dear mirror on the wall

You find the beauty in my soul 

You are not a pretty lying spell

You lift my spirits from cacophonous hell

Just a mirror, you are my dear.

Enriched

Deeper than the twilight,

stronger than the ebbing wave,

sharper than the horizon,

PC- Here

colder than the air,

prettier than her mind,

larger than her shadow,

was, a glow in her heart.

That glow of  love.

Enriched, by his smile.

Dear Night's Dream

Picture Source Here

"shedding off the day's tiredness, I can't keep

crashing on, diving into layers of  blanket deep

locking away my mind in the treasury of sleep

just then do you delve, you dream?

sprawling onto corners of my mind's realm

slicing up treasury into parallel journey to seem

calm and alluring, sometimes beating devilish drum

colourfully nice or triggered by your naughty tantrum

your vivid ways! but those keepsake ones a handful some

the morning rays of the red ball failing to shake you off

at those shrill alarms of the clock you scoff

pray, you stay along if you can make me, only laugh



you manage to accomplish your loot

leaving my treasury hollow, so acute

sleep deprived! my restlessness to you I impute 



my mind carries a sign board none

do not disturb the body in sleeping zone

dear dream, I have no clue, you are a welcome guest or to begone? "

Converses With My Shadow

PS- Selfie

"you are the keeper of my beautiful thoughts



unending dreams of mine that you share



following me amicably, all day long



I ignore, but your determined follow!



you cant tease me by growing taller than me



and sometimes you just vanish into tinier version





simply wriggling in out and around me



at your own will and wish



teasing my naughty soul



your sunny tallness mocks at me



and you slip off into a rat hole when it rains



mountain of support, you enhance my existence





my only soul mate on tougher roads



the strength, whom I can converse in whispers



my doubts, my silly thoughts, perplexes



you never back off even at my betrayal



baffles me, but our unconditional bonding



you are my only friend

follower of my thoughts, rainbow of my life,



where do you hide when I sleep at night?

        or do you prowl upon my brighter morning?

where do you disappear in the dark?



may be the contour of my spine



you shall not betray even my dead soul".

Grave Of Life

Rendezvous between the,

soul and the earth.

Devour me in full,

As I today fail life's story,

Edged the soul.

Earth laughed,

times  shall fail not.

Your  spirits shall live up till the sky,

Dust covered layer and ashes,

Resting in the grave of life.

The Drama Was No More Her

That another morning,

Yet unfamiliar air,
colourless.

Fog sang a cold poem,

She dropped a tear
after another.

I was humming soft
lyrics,

Empathy denied, her war on.

She dropped another
tear,

My soul screamed
aloud.

Leave her alone,

Unable to, I gently touched her.

Sheer adamant as she seemed,

Dropped her tear.

Was my love eluding?

Query of my soul it was.

She zealously brightened,

Stood tall, tears
vanished.

But, the magic was him,

The sun who kissed
her.

Lovely green, her highness.

The drama was no more her.

Locked To Be Loved

Same morning again

Same voyage you set



Miles, chased the hearts,

of longing moments.



Enchanting thunder....

your presence in my arms,

your bleak whiff in my ears.



Locked to be loved,

Keyed by loved.



Cocoon for my love,

nest for my silhouette.



Silence between us

talked million words.



Soaked in mellow tangle....

hearts laughed merrily,

At colours of the moments.



Locked to be loved,

Keyed by loved.

That Same Shy, Town Girl

That same shy girl of the town

That same street, gulmohar tree, home very own

Cows at the gate, same scene

As, each time I come in

A decade, more, did less change to the sight

People had hair more grey and light

Familiar faces, that auto driver, news paper man

My home, I spent half my life span

Full of kids, that same children's park

Delightful watch, strikes day's spark

Older ones kicking foot ball in ground

Same people, same home, earth is round

That same shy girl of this town

Once with, striped bermuda, glasses on

Peddling away on the cycle, puffing and panting

Is now - On that memory lane rumbling, & on blog ranting.

P.S.- That girl in the words is none other than myself. A peek into my hometown as I step there each year.

Branching Talks

Crawling to the sun, touches the border,

Passed attempt, the branch, in order,

Thanks for warmth, friendship much older.

Whispers to the waves visiting the boulder,

Talk to me, the unsaid word & another,

Drop  the weight off your shoulder.



Growing with the rock and boulder,

Relishing sunshine, rains or wind colder,

Shooting high, standing tall and wider.



Shining example to man, a manner,

He who laments for troubles, no sooner,

Learning, wisdom, priceless, tree the stronger.

Petals Of Love

Wafting petals of love,

 

Abhors the horrendous wind.

 

She, is a beautiful bloom,

 

Held high & cosy in delicate palm,

 

Now withered, from  glory to gloom.

 

Fret, shall be no mercy,

 

Time lost is irreversible,

 

The new bloom on -looked.

 

Shaky petals of love,

 

Abandoned with time,

 

Marred by the wind,

 

Tackling the destiny.

 

She, is a beautiful "life"!



Love it's divine essence!

 

 

An ultimate comparison of life with the rain, clouds, or bloom, and so on.... finds never ending prose & poetry.